Nothing Changes In The Abyssal Plain.

On the abyssal plain.

Of the Ocean.

I sit.

And wait

And wait

And wait

And wait.

For the dawn of change.

For the world to turn back,

To a land of tropical jungle heat,

Of baking beaches, white sand banks to the horizon,

Of vast, empty, blinding white arctic desert,

Of blonde grassed, twisting tree wilderness,

Of cold pine forest, earthy green and brown.

In the abyssal plain,

Nothing changes.

No intelligence,

Penetrates its absolute mystery.

No light,

Pierces the Ten thousand years of inky blackness.

Only the dark.

And the mud.

Of the Ocean floor.

Feel our earth cry in its agony,

As the surface animals,

Torture its skin.

But in the abyssal plain,

All is calm.

Nothing changes.